Sunlit Serenity
by mask of roses
Summary: Why does he watch her? UryuuxHime Oneshot


She was sitting there again, sunlit and contemplative. The long white skirt she wears, spreads around her, in deft folds over her long shapely legs that are stretched out before her. She leans back, her left palm flat on the grass, her arm supporting her up; she draws one leg up and rests her right hand on her knee. The sunlight, appearing so harsh as its glares down upon the city, simply lights up her pale skin and the delicate contours of her arm lie in shadow – the effect is becoming, to say the least.

The boy's eyes drift upwards, away from the slender arm, glancing along the swan-like neck, to look upon her face, and his calm breathing catches ever so slightly. He does not often get to see her like this, silent, blissfully so. She only dons this appearance, reveals this persona, when she is here, waiting; when the world does not need her to smile and be merry.

Her lips, the soft pink lips of a girl, bear the slightest of smiles, the faintest hint of joy; he thinks- that is the smile of a woman in thought. Her eyes are open and gazing upwards at the sky, yet not at the sky; behind those grey orbs, that now shone akin to quicksilver gleam, her thoughts were soaring and taking flight into the vast expanse of the blue sky. Freedom became a reality, inhibitions ceased to exist.

He knew that when she sat here, waiting for a few scant moments, her countenance revealed another, yet not entirely contrasting, aspect of her vivid soul. Her exaggerated words, her eccentric actions, her maddeningly happy smile, were truly and sincerely _her_. But this girl, who sat and dreamed in silence under the sunlight, was the person closer and more intimate with the intricacies and contradictions that completed _her_.

She knew he was there too, waiting with her, as he perched upon a nearby tree, a slight figure in that severely clean white shirt. And she assumed that he watched the river that flowed by them, sunlight winking of its flowing surface; that he watched the shadows change with the sun's passage across the sky, the slow transition from blue to a pink-orange hue. The fact that the boy- this particular boy- would rush to finish his work with uncharacteristic haste, would dart down the street and jump upon the tree moments before her arrival, because he wished to see her- to simply watch her unaffected expression, was something that had never occurred to her. It had to be his punctual nature, she was certain, and she would smile as she thought of the Quincy who was so much older than his years, and remember with fond amusement his fussing over her during their time together in Soul Society.

He had often questioned himself, why he came to see her; why he wanted to. It seemed a question necessary to consider, a question which each time he pondered upon it, the conflicting emotions that welled up within him indicated more pointedly towards a specific answer. Soon, he dismissed it; he could not- would not- find an answer to this. But now, as he waits, his mind wanders once again, unbidden, asking "why?"

It was the ability to appreciate beauty in its most honest form, he thinks, and realizes abruptly (but honestly, it's not really that much of a surprise) that to him, she is beautiful. "Beautiful" he whispers to himself, and his heart clenches in an unfamiliar manner. Who could ignore her beauty- it was glaringly obvious, it struck one down, that resplendent countenance, those flowing auburn locks, framing a face with gentle eyes and a compassionate smile…

Yet he knows, that his eyes are drawn to the beauty that does not shine under the sun; that was missed by the gaze of multitudes- he saw the purity of her soul that had endured darkness yet still insisted on shining; he saw the innocence that refused to fade despite the world's warnings. The chivalrous Quincy found beauty in the rarity of her existence, and was man enough to know by now the significance of his realization.

But, most men, including the last of the Quincies, know that to ignore the truth beating with each heartbeat within him, is often the easiest path to follow when confronted with futile desire. Because he knows, that this moment, with his blue-eyed gaze upon her face is all that he can rightfully claim as his own. He knows that when Ichigo will saunter down the grassy bank, with Rukia by his side, then will Orihime's soft smile blossom and her eyes will exude an adoring light, as she greets the boy she loves. And he will nimbly jump down from his perch, nod his acknowledgement, as the moment will be lost in conversations of battle and tactics.


End file.
